Steele Remembered
by gilmoradict
Summary: April 19 was Madeleine Gilbert's birthday. To celebrate, and in memory of her, I am publishing a story to hopefully in some small way honor her, giving nod to her superior talents. For you, MG.
1. Chapter 1

Pulling sunglasses from his face, he pushed the heavy glass door open. The dark haired man paused for a beat, scanning those milling about the lobby of the Century Plaza Towers. Years of surveillance in his current line of work, and, it must be admitted, even more years of wariness lest some disgruntled associate from a somewhat scurrilous business transaction be lying in wait, had developed in this startlingly handsome man a habit of constant alertness. A pair of tailored suits who walked briskly by him, a small woman seated in an easy chair, checking her reflection in a hand-held mirror, the receptionist who smiled warmly at him as she caught his eye - nothing aroused suspicion of any kind on this sunny morning in spring. His piercing blue eyes crinkled briefly as he returned the receptionist's greeting with a crisp nod and stepped lightly through the closing doors of the elevator.

In mere seconds Remington Steele stood in front the silver lettered doors of Suite 1157, the Remington Steele Detective Agency. He allowed himself a swift smile at the sight, stopping to polish his right, and then his left shoe on the opposite pant leg. Hard to believe it had been nearly four years since he had first walked through these doors, assuming a role and a life that suited him better than he could have possibly imagined.

Steele's warm, "Good morning, darling!" earned him a bright smile from the agency's secretary and detective-in-training, Mildred.

"There you are, Mr. Steele! The boss has been waiting for you."

"Has she, now. That hurts a little, Mildred. The boss. Really?" Steele's grin belied the admonishment as he winked at Mildred and hurried into Laura's office with a quick rap to the closed red door.

"Laura! Up with the birds, were you? I've always admired that Protestant work ethic you bring to the agency. No wasted moments. More done before breakfast than many accomplish in a day." Steele leveled a bemused gaze on the petite brunette, who upon his arrival rose from her desk chair and began gathering the contents of a file folder, her purse and her coat.

"Some of us have work to do, Mr. Steele. Com'on. I dropped the surveillance photos we took yesterday off with Elliot first thing this morning. He should have them ready for us now."

Steele took Laura's coat and held it while she shrugged into it. As she moved toward the office door, he snagged her wrist delicately between his thumb and forefinger, pulling the surprised woman back to face him. Leaning in, Steele gently, but thoroughly kissed Laura, his warm and demanding lips drawing her attention fully to him in that moment.

"I hope, Miss Holt," Steele finally murmured in her ear, "Your dreams last night were as lovely as mine. Someday I'm not going to be willing to tear myself away from you after an evening spent in your company."

Swaying slightly as she stood in front of him, Laura slowly opened her dark eyes and drew in a steadying breath.

"Focus, Mr. Steele. Work, remember?" Straightening her shoulders, the agency's founder and actual head, pushed herself firmly way from the circle of Steele's arms. As she turned away from Steele she closed her eyes for a second and swallowed hard before leading the way through the door, past a smirking Mildred, and toward the elevator.

RSRSRSRSRS

Laura scanned briefly through the stack of photos before slipping them neatly into the file folder and sliding behind the wheel of her white Volkswagen Rabbit. She handed the folder to Steele and peeled away from the curb, throwing the usually poised man against the door.

"Really, Laura, is it necessary to rush? Our little bookseller isn't going anywhere, is he?" Steele complained mildly, once he had righted himself and straightened his tailored suit coat.

"Mr. Standusty is paying us good money to locate his missing rare books." She risked a glimpse at Steele as she paused briefly at a light. "You're a reader. I know you are. And familiar a certain element. Who is our most likely culprit here? It takes an unusual individual to recognize the value of these books. A high end thief working for an eccentric collector?"

"Certainly you don't imagine I would have any connections to any criminal element in the city? I really have no idea..."

Laura merely rolled her eyes at Steele, allowing a smile to lurk briefly on her lips. While she firmly believed Steele had reformed himself in recent years, she was under no illusions as to his past. It was part of what made him so GOOD at helping her solve crimes - he recognized the mind, and a good many of the faces, of a thief. Laura Holt was as good or better a detective than any out there, but she also had developed confidence in her partner's ability to see all angles of a case and to provide insights into who or what they might be looking for.

Sure enough, Steele began thoughtfully skimming through the photos in the file, pausing as he held up one of a young woman with thick, dark hair.

"See something, Mr. Steele?"

"This woman seems familiar. I don't know that she has anything to do with this case, but I think I've seen her somewhere before."

As they pulled up in front of "_The_ _Dusty_ _Bookshelf_", Laura glanced at the photo in his hand, before adding it to the file with the others. "Let me know if you come up with anything concrete, Mr. Steele."

Steele waited for Laura to walk around the car and the two approached the bookstore together. Windows painted in layers of shiny forrest green framed the book lovers paradise that lay within. Immediately visible were end tables stacked high with books, two worn easy chairs inviting browsers to settle in and lose themselves in their choices, as well as homey lamps strategically placed to facilitate reading. Great looming shelves, burgeoning with heavy volumes rose behind these, dust motes floating enticingly in the lamp lit spaces between. A bell tinkled to announce the detective's arrival as they peered around the door and into the shop.

A groan greeted them.

Rushing to the source of the moan, Laura and Steele found their way impeded by disordered stacks of books pulled from a shelf toward the back of the shop. Their newest client, Mr. Standusty, lay under a pile of loose books. Steele and Laura began pulling them off of him, gently helping him to sit up once most of the heavy volumes had been removed.

"Mr. Standusty, are you all right? What happened?" Laura inquired gently, peering into the old man's face.

Groaning again, Standusty rubbed the back of his head, holding his shattered glasses out to inspect them mournfully. "You came along not long after I was attacked by this old bookshelf. I'll have to call Sheila to bring me my extra pair of glasses."

Mr. Standusty seemed not to react when a door clicked shut in the rear of the shop.

"Is there anyone else here with you, Mr. Standusty?" Laura asked.

"No - I had just opened the doors for the morning, and was looking for a volume by Melville when I stumbled into the shelf and books started raining down on me!"

"Mr. Steele, would you be good enough to stay here with Mr. Standusty while I call for help." Laura walked swiftly to the rear of the shop, peering out the rear entrance into an empty alleyway.

"Just a drink of water would help, my dear, just a drink," Standusty called after her.

"You took quite a knock to your head. We'll want to be sure you're not too badly injured." Steele placed a bracing hand on the man's shoulder while he looked inquiringly at Laura, who shook her head at him while stepping to the phone at the counter.

Within minutes emergency services had arrived and Mr. Standusty was being evaluated. As Laura and Steele waited off to the side, an all too familiar voice grated on their ears. "Laura Holt and Remington Steele, as I live and breath. Why is it I always seem to find you at my crime scenes?"

"Jimmy." and "Detective Jarvis." The two turned as one to face the baby faced officer. Steele continued in a cool voice. "What a distinct...pleasure."

"What seems to be the problem, sir? I hope these 'detectives' aren't somehow involved in this incident here this morning."

"No, no, no. These are my rescuers! I'm a clumsy old man who somehow was buried in his own books!" a somewhat recovered Standusty assured Detective Jarvis.

Jarvis' smile failed to reach his eyes as he gave the disarray in the shop a slow, sweeping look, before stopping to level his gaze on the two detectives in front of him.

Unfazed by this perusal, Steele inquired, "Isn't responding to 911 calls a bit beneath you, Jarvis?"

"Not when the call comes from Miss Holt, and I know YOU'RE likely mixed up in whatever's going on. The LAPD has developed a particular interest in you, Mr. Steele."

"I'm touched, Jarvis, though my life is an open book. If you have any questions for me, I'll be happy to answer them. If not, we'll let you get on with your day."

Laura looked between the two with a slightly puzzled frown, before turning her attention to her client. "I called your niece, Mr. Standusty. She's stopping by your place to pick up your extra glasses. Mr. Steele, perhaps we should help clean up this mess."

The paramedics began walking out with their equipment and Jarvis backed slowly and thoughtfully away from the detectives before turning to follow them out of the shop.

"What do suppose that was all about?" Laura asked Steele quietly.

The bell above the shop door jingled, as a short, dark haired woman walked through the door, only to be pushed aside as a second, obviously distressed woman, bustled past her crying out, "Uncle David! Are you all right?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Jenna encouraged many of us in our writing endeavors. Last fall, before she fell ill, she asked me once again to try writing a new Remington Steele story. My sense was that I had already told all the RS scenarios that were in me, and I'm of the opinion that that is, in fact, true. However. If anyone could inspire me to write a story, Jenna would be that person. This isn't exactly flowing smoothly, but I'm determined, Jenna, to complete this for you. You are Steele remembered._

It was nearly three before Laura and Steele settled somewhat wearily into a street side café across from the agency for a late lunch. Steele chomped hungrily on breadsticks as they waited for their order to arrive.

"You do realize, Laura, that I can't be expected to perform grueling physical labor without sustenance?"

Laura puzzled over the notes she had taken while at _The_ _Dusty_ _Bookshelf_, seemingly oblivious to Steele's grumbling. "So in addition to the copy of Julius Caesar, a rare collection by Wordsworth, and a first edition by Faulkner that Mr. Standusty had already reported missing , the only additional volume missing after today's little incident is a copy of _Cat_ _on_ _a_ _Hot_ _Tin_ _Roof_. Despite their value, I can't for the life of me see what would motivate someone to take these particular books, while ignoring countless others that are equally valuable."

Leaning back in his chair, a bread stick poised in his grip like a fine cigar, Steele mused, "A play write, a poet and a …" His gaze sharpened on something just over Laura's shoulder, letting his speculation drift off into silence.

"Yes, Mr. Steele?" Laura looked questioningly at her partner.

Steele leaned forward and took Laura's hand between both of his, though his eyes remained focused on something behind her. Speaking distinctly but in a near whisper, he murmured, "I think that woman over there is following us. She was at the book store earlier and now..."

The waiter arrived with Laura's and Steele's food just then, blocking their view of the woman. When the conscientious server was finally satisfied the pair lacked nothing in the way of parmesan, pepper or cool drinks and left the way clear for Laura to sneak a glance behind her, there was no one there. She turned back to study her partner before stealing another quick look over her shoulder. "Eat your pasta, Mr. Steele. After lunch we'll check in with Mildred to see what kind of luck she's had tracking down the previous owners of those missing books."

Steele stood slightly to scan the area around the outdoor cafe before sitting and somewhat grudgingly flicking his napkin open to settle it in his lap. "I'll bet Mildred had lunch hours ago."

RSRSRSRS

The clear glass of the door to Suite 1157 revealed a scene far too similar to the chaos that had greeted Steele and Laura at _The Dusty Bookshelf _earlier that morning. This time it was Mildred being attended to by paramedics, while the familiar face of Detective Jarvis loomed gloomily over her.

"MIldred! My gosh! What happened!" Laura exclaimed, dropping to her knees in front of the older woman before glancing with concern between her and Jarvis.

"It seems your secretary was a victim of a malicious attack. Trouble seems to follow those closest to you, Miss Holt." Jarvis offered gravely.

"Oh, Laura, it was awful! I was focused on researching those books you asked me about when all of a sudden someone put a cloth over my face. Next thing you know, I wake up staring at the ceiling. My head was spinning and there were stars circling around...it was all I could do to pull the phone off the desk and call 911."

"Which brought Detective Jarvis to your rescue, it seems." Steele smiled cooly at the impassive police officer, before turning back to place a comforting hand on Mildred's shoulder. "Are you feeling better, now, darling?"

Laura stood, taking a clipboard from the EMTs for her signature. The men placed their equipment on top of the unused stretcher, pushing it out through the doors as they left the office.

"Any idea what about any of your cases might be so compelling that it would generate such a violent interest in your files?" Jarvis pushed his sport coat back to rest his hands on his hips as he spoke.

"No!" Laura said with a bewildered shake of her head.

"As much as I enjoy our little encounters, I'd prefer not to have to keep rescuing the senior citizens you've put at risk."

"Hey! Watch it, buster!" Mildred growled indignantly at Jarvis. "Who are you calling a senior citizen?"

"My apologies, Miss Krebs." Jarvis bobbed his head at her. "Steele, Miss Holt, I don't know what your client has gotten himself mixed up in, but if you think you're in over your heads...".

"We'll make certain Mildred is kept safe, Detective, and our clients as well. We'll keep your offer in mind, though," Steele interrupted.

"Do that, Mr. Steele. Miss Holt." With a nod Jarvis walked slowly away from the trio.

"Oh, Miss Holt. I didn't mean to make trouble for you!" Mildred worried.

Laura took Mildred's hand comfortingly. "Nonsense, Mildred! Calling for help was the right thing to do - Jarvis means well. We just need to figure out who wants information so desperately that they would be willing to risk personal attacks. We'll pull all our current case files and see if there are any red flags. Mr. Steele, under the circumstances, do you think we should check on Mr. Standusty?"

MIldred's eyes grew wide and a plump hand flew to each side of her face. "Mr. Standusty! In all the excitement I completely forgot! He called here just before the lights went out! He wouldn't talk about anything over the phone, but he had some information he wanted you two to know."

Laura looked at Steele, and the two of them then turned as one to Mildred.

"We don't want you to stay here alone, Miss Krebs, just in case whatever ruffian was here earlier should return," Steele explained. "Do you think you feel well enough to accompany us to _The_ _Dusty_ _Bookshelf_?"

"Let's go, chief!" Mildred's voice was firm and she was half-way to the door before Laura and Steele grinned at one another and followed.

Like a well orchestrated team, Laura bent to lock the door to the office, Steele passed her the handbag he had picked up for her on their way out of the office, and Mildred hurried to push the button to call the elevator car.

Intent on their destination, the trio leaving the eleventh floor through one set of sliding doors were oblivious to the trim, well-dressed woman stepping onto the floor through the other. With a studied casualness the woman walked slowly past the agency, peering though the glass doors into the outer office, before entering the stairwell to exit the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

_There has been the distraction of a 'Castle' season finale, my daughter's graduation from college, end of school year celebrations, and a rapidly upcoming family vacation, but I'm still working through these chapters. While my style is nothing like MG's, I Steele hope readers are able to find a glimpse of Remington Steele in my story. Thanks for reading – care to share a note about what MG meant to YOU?_

Laura pulled the Rabbit sharply into much the same place in front of _The Dusty Bookshelf _ that she had parked in hours earlier.

"Com'on, com'on!" she hurried Steele, wresting his seat back forward as soon as he had extricated his long limbs from the cabriolet. Both of them reached to help Mildred clamber from the car's cramped back seat.

"It's not my age," she offered defensively. "I'm a little stiff from my new exercise program."

"Mildred darling, no one could get out of the back seat of that car without assistance."

Steele grinned at the older woman before gesturing for her to go ahead of him as the three filed in through the bookstore's door to the repeated jingle of the shop bell. The scene that greeted them inside was becoming far too familiar. A disarray of books cluttered the aisle where Mr. Standusty stood groaning, one hand pressed to his forehead. Laura, Steele and Mildred rushed to him, stepping over the stacks of books that surrounded him.

"Mr. Standusty! Are you OK? What happened?" Laura reached the man first.

"Oh! I'm fine, other than racking my brain trying to remember a strange little note I found in a box of books I bought at an estate sale a few months back. You asked if there was anything I could remember that was unusual and after you left the note came to mind. I think I tucked it back into one of the books from the box...but I can't for the life of me remember which one." Standusty pulled another book off the shelf, tipping it's spine upwards and shaking it to dislodge anything that might have been pressed between the pages.

"You mean YOU made this mess yourself?" The idea that anyone, knowingly or even unwittingly, would create such chaos was beyond the orderly former tax investigator's comprehension. Mildred turned to take in the full scope of the book store's disarray.

"At least Jarvis hasn't arrived," Steele leaned in, speaking in a tone low enough for only Laura to hear him, and was rewarded with a withering look.

"Wait! I found it!" Standusty exclaimed triumphantly. He thrust a small slip of paper into the investigators' faces. "No tome exists save a woodsman fells, When the leaves are ruffled William Tells."

"William Tell?" Steele asked with a quirk of his brow.

"William _tells." _Standusty emphasized with a shrug. "I don't know what it means, but it's something, right?"

"You're right, Mr. Standusty. We'll look into it first thing tomorrow. Meanwhile, with the four of us working, we'll have these books back on the shelves in no time at all." Laura said, cheerfully, pinning a reluctant Steele with her eyes before he could offer any excuses. In a low voice she consoled him with her next suggestion "I think a little surveillance of the bookstore might be a good idea tonight. As soon as we've finished here, I'll run Mildred home and drop Mr. Standusty at his niece's place, and bring us something from Rizzo's for dinner."

"No tome exists, eh? At your service, Miss Holt." Steele grinned wryly as he bowed slightly and then leaned over to begin picking up books.

RSRSRSRSRS

Steele relaxed back into one of the ample, overstuffed reading chairs _The Dusty Bookshelf _provided it's customers, his feet braced on a worn leather hassock. Though he protested often enough to his aversion to physical labor, he was actually quite fit, and capable of nearly any challenge Laura might set before him, and then some. The four of them - mainly he, Laura and Mildred, as customers to the bookstore had frequently required Standusty's attention - had returned all the books upended by the bookseller's search in no time at all. It was not even dark when Laura had departed with the others, leaving Steele with instructions to politely usher any lingerers out at six, lock the door and turn the little sign hanging there to read "_Closed - Tomorrow is another chapter!" _Still, today had been tiring and a bit unsettling.

As he scanned the bookstore, Steele's hand drifted unconsciously to a letter tucked into his suit coat pocket. Lacking much in the way of family to nurture and guide him, he had tried on a variety of names and lifestyles as he grew into the man he had become, much as other men changed their clothes. None had suited him quite so well as that of Remington Steele. Yet as easily has he had stepped into the clothes and persona of that debonaire man about town, the name and the role belonged first and foremost to Laura. It was she who had created them as a ruse to fool those who believed a delicate woman such as she would be incapable of handling the challenges of private investigation. Handle them she had, most capably, until he stepped in.

Her fictitious figurehead, of course, did not require documentation of any kind. Not birth certificate, detective license, or the tax returns Mildred's initial foray into their lives had shown them to lack. Somewhat sadly Steele realized there was probably no legitimate way to create the documentation necessary to make him the man he appeared to be, the man Laura deserved to have at her side.

A shadow darkened the doorway to the little shop. Steele looked up to see a woman leaning in, hand shielding her eyes from the sun's late day glare to peer into the shop. Sinking farther into the deep chair he sat in, Steele realized with a start that the woman was the same one he'd seen in the cafe earlier that afternoon, the woman he was almost certain had been tailing him other places as well. Who was she and what was she hoping to learn about him? In the seconds he puzzled these questions the woman straightened and stepped briskly away. Rising from his seat to slip into the shadows of the bookshelves, Steele stared thoughtfully after her.

Moments later the crisp rhythm of a knock startled Steele. He turned to find Laura's beautiful face framed by the hand she held to her face to block the glare from the sun. Laura's eyes found his; her face lit in a smile that Steele didn't even realize he mirrored with his own as two long steps carried him to the door to let her in. Holding up the steaming bag, Laura leaned in to bring her smile close to Steele's. They lingered, breathing one another in for a long moment. His long fingers rose to gently feather along her jaw, and Laura let the bag fall to her side, forgotten, in a tender and lingering kiss. Only in that moment did the band of tension around Steele's chest ease in a happy sigh.

RSRSRSRSRS

"Miss Holt, when you suggested we maintain a watch over our client's establishment this evening, I assumed you meant we'd be doing so together." Steele released the button on a hand held walkie talkie, waiting for his partner's response from the low chair he sat in on the rooftop of a building just behind _The Dusty Bookshelf. _

Laura grinned from where she was discreetly parked in the Rabbit, her voice crackling softly in Steele's ear. "We have to keep an eye on both entrances, Mr. Steele. Is your coffee still hot?"

"Oh, piping." Steele took a sip and made a face before setting the offending thermos top down. "Anything interesting happening out front?"

"If by interesting you mean a cat slinking along the edge of the building, or a couple necking at the bus stop, then yes, but otherwise, all clear."

"More interesting if I was there with you to take our cue from them." There was a long pause before Steele continued. "Laura. It's been three years since Mildred investigated the agency's taxes."

"I think that's about right."

"Was everything set right after she left the IRS?"

"You mean after they fired her?"

"I suppose so. I mean, as far as the IRS was concerned, I'd failed to file tax returns for several years after Remington Steele Investigations was formed."

"We paid a fine, and filed the tax returns late. Mildred smoothed things over with the help of a couple of her buddies in fraud. What has you thinking about that?"

"Oh...nothing. Just realizing how much you and Mildred both do to make up for my..." Steele paused here, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Your laziness, dilatoriness, lackadaisicalness, languidness...?"

"Fine, Laura, you've made your point. I've let the two of you handle most of the agency's paperwork."

"Most?"

"All right, all of it. Admitting I've been dilatory about all things at the heart of the agency that bears my name, I'm ready to step up and pull my share of the load if necessary. Are things in order? I mean, paperwork, licenses, passports, that sort of thing?"

Laura's laugh bubbled out over the thready speaker of the walkie talkie. "Why this sudden interest in our paperwork, Mr. Steele? It's hardly your area of expertise. Rest assured, Mildred and I have things covered. There are a few areas we've had to gloss over a bit, in light of your irregular advent into the agency, but I think for the most part they'd pass inspection."

"That's comforting, Miss Holt. I'm afraid I've put you in a bit of an awkward position, having to create a background for your figurehead, where none exists."

"We've done nothing illegal, Mr. Steele," Laura assured him, "Only a bit of smoke and mirrors."

"Ah, good to know. I depend on you to always keep us on the straight and narrow. I guess Jarvis poking around makes me a bit nervous." Had Laura been able to see Steele as they spoke she would have realized that her words had not provided the man with the degree of comfort she had intended. His thumb fared the worse for his gnawing on it.

The walkie talkies fell silent for a time. Laura shrugged into the jacket she had settled loosely around her slender shoulders, shivering, though she hadn't yet noticed the chill of the night air. "Mr. Steele?"

Concerned as the silence stretched out, Laura opened the door to the Rabbit, gauging her cover as she stepped toward the gap in the building which led to Steele's vantage point. Just then the walkie talkie crackled softly once more.

"Laura - someone's breaking in!"


	4. Chapter 4

_One of my favorite topics for RS stories are the moments in between, prowling around the screen moments we have, to explore and expound on questions raised in them. If it isn't already clear to readers, this story is set late in season four, perhaps directly before the events of Bonds of Steele.  
While this isn't as strong as I would like, I am concerned that I will not finish at all if I don't keep plugging along, I'm going to go ahead and post this chapter. Please have confidence that I do have a goal I'm working towards, and Jenna's voice of encouragement whispering in my ear._

Without taking time to reply Laura quickened her step as she hurried toward the rear of the building which housed The Dusty Bookshelf. Pausing at the corner, she flattened herself to the rough brick before risking a glimpse around the edge. Just as Steele had warned her, a darkly clothed figure was hunched over the lock set of the back door.

"Laura? Laura?" The walkie talkie squawked loudly in the stillness of the alleyway.

Laura grimaced before stealing another look around the corner. The would-be thief had ceased their work on the lock and seemed frozen for a moment, staring in Laura's direction, before taking slow measured steps away from her. Heaving a brief sigh of frustration, Laura pivoted around the corner and called out, "Hey, hold it right there!"

The individual had several long strides on her, but having committed to the chase, Laura's practiced sprint soon closed the gap between them and with a gracefully arched leap, she tackled the man, bringing both of them to the pavement. Though her prey grunted as he absorbed the brunt of their fall, he rolled to his back, pinning Laura beneath him. A blow from his elbow landed on her ribs, knocking the breath out of her, and in that moment the man rose and might have delivered another blow had not Steele's shocked cry as he entered the alley, startled him into a stumbling retreat. Steele rushed to Laura's side, kneeling to assess her injury.

"I'm fine, Mr. Steele!" She huffed breathlessly, "Go after him!"

"You sure?" Steele asked, his eyes dark with concern and anger. At her brief nod he was up and running in pursuit of Laura's assailant. At the end of the alleyway he stopped short. A dark sedan roared to life, tires squealing and spraying loose gavel as it screamed away from him. His squint at the car's filthy rear license yielded no information.

With a quiet, "Damn," Steele turned to walk briskly back to his partner, now rubbing her bruised side as she struggled to breathe evenly.

A terse shake of his head answered her unspoken question.

"Well, Mr. Steele, all we've learned tonight is that someone still wants something from this bookstore, but I don't imagine they'll try again tonight."

Wrapping an arm protectively behind Laura's back, Steele guided her toward the street, peering down at her with concern. "You couldn't have waited for me to get down off the roof before pursuing the burglar, Laura?"

"If you hadn't radioed me while I was entering the alleyway he wouldn't have heard me coming and tried to run away."

"Not to point out the obvious, Laura, but he did run away, and then sprayed the dust from the road in our faces. Are you implying that was somehow my fault?"

"No, of course not, but I didn't really have a choice as to whether or not I would pursue him once he'd heard your radio transmission. That's when he started to run."

"You hadn't responded to me, Laura," Steele replied coolly, "I was descending from the rooftop as rapidly as I could, and wouldn't have needed to communicate if I'd known you were safe."

"I WAS safe, and I was coming - quietly, I might add - to check on you. I'm far from helpless, Mr. Steele."

Realizing this was not the time to point out that, despite the utmost respect he had for her abilities, she HAD in fact been over powered by their target, Steele's eyes flicked up and down her form before he tried another tact. "I'm well aware of your capabilities, Miss Holt. Perhaps our surveillance would have been more effective if we'd done it together? Without being forced to rely on these ridiculous radios."

Steele pulled the offending piece of equipment from where it was clipped on his pocket, holding it disdainfully in the increasingly chilly air between he and Laura.

"You would have liked that, wouldn't you. Having a chance to grope me while we "watched" the bookstore? " Laura made air quotes as she spit out the words. "I seriously doubt that would have resulted in any more success determining who is targeting Mr. Standusty's bookstore, or why."

The two glared at one another, pausing as they reached the Rabbit. Without further comment, Laura jerked the car door open and climbed in, where she sat without moving until Steele climbed stiffly into the passenger seat.

"'Grope' you, eh? What a quaint way of describing the romantic interludes of our relationship. If that is really the way you feel, I'm definitely doing something wrong." Steele's jaw flexed as he sat starring out the front window of Laura's car.

Laura's shoulders dropped and she turned to her partner, her brown eyes lingering on his profile. When he didn't move, she turned to face the dash once more, mirroring her partner's unflinching focus on the street outside the bookstore. Finally she let soft words trickle into the silence in the car.

"I know I've said this before. I wish I had a name to call you, a name other than Mr. Steele, or Remington."

After a unsteady sigh, she continued, her voice so quiet, Steele almost wondered if she meant for him to hear her. "I believe in a man who doesn't even exist. I've wrapped an entire detective agency around working with him, and then spend nearly every evening in his company. I'm the one who can't always remember what is business and what is pleasure."

It was Steele's turn now, to break his unseeing view of the street outside the car, and to glance at Laura's profile, at the suspicious shimmer of tears trembling in her eyes. "I'm very fond of the name you've given me, Laura. If I'd a better one to share with you, believe me, I would. We're making the charade work, aren't we?"

Through his smile was tentative, Steele reached out with a sure hand to take Laura's hand in his. "Let's go home. Get a bit of sleep, and go at this thing again in the morning with clear heads, eh?"

With a nod Laura seemed to gather herself, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes before slipping the key into the car's ignition. As the Rabbit puttered to life she managed a brief smile for Steele.

As they pulled away from the curb, Steele glanced out the window. The lovers who had been making use of the bus stop bench had left, and in their place sat the vaguely familiar face and figure of a slender young woman with dark hair, apparently absorbed in reading a book. Looking into the door side mirror, Steele saw the woman close the book, stand, and watch them as they drove away. His hand slid without volition to the place where letter was secreted in his inside suit coat pocket.

RSRSRSRSRS

Laura had barely set foot in the office in the morning when Mildred rose excitedly from the desk. "You aren't gonna believe this, Laura! Jarvis called first thing this morning before I'd even had a chance to make coffee. Says he has a lead on the guy who attacked me yesterday! He wants me to come down and take a look at a couple 'a suspects!"

"That's odd. I thought you didn't get a look at your attacker." Laura looked puzzled.

"Oh, I didn't, but Jarvis thinks maybe seeing the guy will jog my memory. I'm willing to give it a shot. Hey! Any luck with the stake out last night?"

Shaking her head, Laura admitted, "Someone showed up, but he managed to get away from us."

"Well at least you and Mr. Steele got to spend time together, right?" Mildred said with a wink. "You must'a had a pretty late night for you to be coming in so late this morning. You're usually here before me."

"I stopped by the bookstore to make sure things were secure this morning, before coming here." Though she wasn't willing to acknowledge Mildred's teasing comment, Laura's brow furrowed for a moment before she could shake off the memory of the previous evening's discord."Any luck coming up with a literary source for the phrase on Mr. Standusty's note?"

"Bupkis, Miss Holt," Mildred said with a shrug and upturned palms.

"Go ahead and see if Jarvis has come up with anything helpful, Mildred" Laura said with a sigh. I've got a couple of leads I want to follow up on from here. Maybe by the time Mr. Steele drags himself in here, one of us will have come up with something."

"You got it!" Mildred grabbed her handbag from her desk drawer. Hesitating before she left her employer, she patted Laura's hand between her plump palms. "Don't you worry, Miss Holt. I don't know what went on between the two of you last night, but I've seen the way Mr. Steele looks at you. He may have been a con man and a cheat, but there's nothing he won't do for you. It's all gonna work out in the end."

"Why don't I find that more comforting?" a spluttering Laura muttered to the disappearing form of the older woman.


	5. Chapter 5

_I have been immersed in Remington Steele season 4 for the past weeks. Contented sigh. Pierce Brosnan really does make a wonderful Remington Steele. And who wouldn't admire the brains and beauty of Stephanie Zimbalist as our plucky Laura Holt?_

_They made solving crimes look so easy - a process I'm finding VERY challenging. Steele, Laura and I are puzzling through together, though, and will get to the end of the story as quickly as the characters do the leg work. I don't want to leave readers dangling any longer than I already have._

Neatly crossing the last name off a long list, Laura stole a glance at her wristwatch, shaking it as if to hurry it's hands along before finally looking up at the clock on her office wall for a different reference point. Mildred had yet to return from looking at suspects with Jarvis, and despite the late hour, Mr. Steele had yet to make an appearance at the agency. Following her sideways apology the night before, she and Steele had parted with a tender caress of his long fingers to her jaw, and a slow, lingering kiss that had left her boneless and dazed for long seconds after her partner had slipped from the car and softly closed the door. Surely that parting had meant he had let go of the hurt she had caused him earlier in the evening! With a sigh she stood and walked to the tiny kitchenette to pour coffee into a mug, carrying it back to her desk before taking a sip. As she gazed out the window behind her desk she paused, cocking her head at a slight noise from the adjoining room. Setting the mug down she walked to the door that separated Steele's spacious office from her smaller one, and quietly eased it open. A rumpled blanket lay on the long white sofa. As Laura puzzled at this incongruous item, Steele walked from the rest room, snugging a tie up to his neatly turned shirt collar.

"Mr. Steele?" Laura startled. "When did you come in?"

"Couldn't sleep." He replied simply. "Came in to clear my head, and took a look through the case notes. Finally drifted off in the wee hours. Not a bad spot for sleeping, actually."

After deftly folding up the blanket, and slipping it into the closet, Steele reached for Laura, giving her a quick one armed hug on his way to snagging his suit coat. "I'm starving. What would you think of a croissant at Hugo's, up on 24th Street. A cup of tea? Maybe a little fresh fruit?"

Laura looked up at Steele with a puzzled frown. "What case files? You slept here?"

Steele drew her arm through his and guided her into the outer office, just as Mildred walked through the agency doors. "Ah, Miss Krebs! How are you this morning?"

"Confused." Mildred was sorting rapidly through a handful of mail as she spoke. "I met the mail man on my way up. Mr. Steele, do you want this one, or should I add it to Miss Holt's stack?"

"Ahh," Steele said, taking the letter and swiftly slipping it into his inside pocket, "No need to trouble Miss Holt with any more busy work. I suspect she's been hard at work all morning, her fingers shredded with paper cuts already."

Laura's eyebrows rose as she leveled an appraising look at Steele, but before she could question him, Mildred picked up the thread of their conversation.

"Me going down to meet with Detective Jarvis was a complete waste of time. After that whole 'pick six' episode I should have known better than to trust his detective work. He ran a few photos past me, but just like I figured, I didn't recognize any of 'em. Then he started pumping me about the agency - Mr. Steele in particular. What did you do to rattle his cage, chief?"

"He's just one of my many fans, Mildred. I imagine he's a bit envious of my fame and glory." Steele's grin held no trace of concern or duplicity as he turned the full force of his charm on the agency's secretary. "Miss Holt and I were heading out to grab a little breakfast. Care to join us?"

"You kids go ahead," Mildred said with a wave over her shoulder. She dropped heavily into her desk chair and reached down to pull off a shoe and rub her foot. "I'm ready to take a load off the puppies."

"Hold down the fort here then, darling. Lock the door behind us, why don't you. We'll be back in no time," Steele answered easily as he pulled Laura out of the office.

RSRSRSRSRS

"Fame and glory?" Laura asked dryly, arms crossed as she and Steele rode the elevator down.

"The great Remington Steele, Laura, dashing man about town, always seen at the best restaurants, in society columns; you invented me, rented my flat, bought the wardrobe and put it in the closet. What man wouldn't envy me? I'm just lucky the shoes fit," Steele offered quietly, his eyes glued to the numbers as the elevator descended rapidly through the ten floors beneath the agency.

"Hey," Laura offered softly, moving her hand to Steele's arm. "I don't say it often enough. You do far more than simply fill out a suit. You really do make a wonderful Remington Steele. You know I've come to really depend on your insights with our cases."

Steele glanced down at the diminutive brunette by his side. An admission of this sort meant something coming from her. He had for some time possessed a growing realization that the teasing banter that defined their relationship was slowly evolving into something deeper, something worthy of a woman like Laura. The letter in the inside pocket of his suit acquired an ominous weight, a worry that furrowed the dark haired man's brow. Clearing his throat slightly, Steele gently steered the conversation away from the assurances he would have liked to use to respond to her. "Speaking of our most recent case, did you make any progress in your work this morning?"

"Of a sort." Laura rolled her shoulders slightly as they stepped out of the elevator. "I stopped by the bookstore this morning to make sure our client was OK, and to pick up the records of his purchases. He doesn't actually have much of a system, and a lot of his books come from estate sales like the one he remembers getting the 'William Tell' note from. He doesn't even keep records of acquisitions like that, since they're one time sources he won't ever return to. I'm not sure there's a lot we can do to trace our suspect through that route. Mr. Standusty did give me a couple of references he uses to help put a value on the books he buys and sells. I talked to several of them. The books that are missing have a total value of around twenty thousand dollars. What puzzled the experts was not only the relatively low value of the missing volumes, but the disparity of the titles. The typical collector has an interest in an author, or maybe a genre, but these volumes, Shakespeare, Faulkner, Williams and Wordsworth - other than a tenth grade English syllabus, we can't see what links these particular books."

"Laura." Steele stopped short.

"What is it, Mr. Steele?" Laura turned back, giving her partner a quizzical look as she pulled open the door to the parking garage.

"Shakespeare, Faulkner, Wordsworth and Tennessee Williams? What do all those volumes have in common?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not following you."

"The name! The name, '_William.' _'_No tome exists save a woodsman fells, When leaves are ruffled, William tells.' '_William' is what links them all together."

Laura contemplated the idea as she stood facing Steele. "Not bad, Mr. Steele. You might be onto something there. Any thoughts on what 'William' tells us?"

"I've had my break through for the morning. Let's go get breakfast. I'm starving."

As if to prove his point his stomach gave an alarming rumble. Laura laughed and gestured for Steele to proceed her through the door toward her car. "Fine. Food, then footwork. We need to figure out who is targeting Mr. Standusty and our secretary /detective-in-training, before Jarvis has an opportunity to beat us to another crime scene."


	6. Chapter 6

_I fear the quality of this chapter does not adequately reflect the lengthy gap between it and my last posting. MG was a master story teller, weaving mysteries seemingly effortlessly into her love stories, a talent I do not share with her. This tale is, however, working toward it's final reveal, and hopefully the conclusion will not be as slow in coming as this chapter has been. If you have stuck with me, thank you. To those of you who have encouraged me, special thanks. _

_In my imaginataion I also hear MG's gentle voice urging me on. Oh how we would have commiserated together over the heat this summer and it's effects on our flowers in our little garden spaces! Thinking cool thoughts!_

Laura tucked the phone into her shoulder as she scrambled through her handbag for her notebook and pen; Steele leaned against the wall next to the pay phone, absently chewing on a toothpick.

"Ready, Mildred. Got it! Near the corner of La Jolla and Melrose." Turning, she proffered the address she'd written down to him, while keeping the line open to the office. "Great work, Mildred."

"Mildred?" Steele leaned in close to speak over Laura, "Keep the door locked, darling, just until we get back. No need to take any risks."

"Sure, chief, but I'm starting to get a little hungry. Do you mind if I order something up?"

"Of course not! Charge it to the agency." Steele shrugs at Laura's eye roll and mouths quietly, "We can't have her starving, can we?"

"We'll check in soon, Mildred, thanks for your help." Laura turned to her partner. "Our resident computer whiz matched the dates in our bookstore owner's receipt book to lists of local estate sales from the _Times _want ads. About three weeks ago there was a sale on Willoughby, not far from Kings Road Park. Guess what the name of the owner of the estate wa...?"

Steele straightened, looking over Laura's shoulder, alarm passing briefly over his face before he composed his features into a look of determination. He angled his body so that his back was toward the sidewalk. grasping Laura's elbow. "Let's not dilly dally, Laura. We don't want to leave Mildred alone any longer than necessary."

Laura quirked an eyebrow at her companion. "I appreciate your concern and your diligence. Ready when you are, Mr. Steele!"

Allowing Steele to guide her to the waiting Rabbit, Laura was soon ensconced in the driver's seat, Steele risking a quick glance over his shoulder as he closed the passenger side door.

The dark eyes of a thick haired brunette flickered as if she suspected she had been made, but she had turned and was perusing a window display of books as the detectives pulled away from the curb.

Steele hummed reflectively. "What did Mildred turn up in her search?"

"William Williams. One of the estates Mr. Standusty may have made a purchase at was owned by a 'William Williams.' In light of your observation, I find that intriguing."

"Appalling is more to the point. Perhaps the only thing worse than not knowing one's real name is having parents who afflict one with a moniker like that."

"We aren't exactly closing in a suspect in this case, since our Mr. Williams is apparently no longer with us, but let's take a look at his estate and see if anything there leads us somewhere, or to someone."

"With you all the way, Miss Holt."

RSRSRSRSRS

The Spanish tiled mansion at the address Mildred had given them had definitely seen happier days. It's paint was weathered, once elegant landscaping neglected, the drapes in the windows faded and drooping. A second story shutter hung valiantly by a single nail, giving it's window the appearance of winking drolly at passer-byes.

Steele and Laura stood silently side by side looking up at the imposing structure before squaring their shoulders in unison and stepping up the stone steps to the door. Laura reached for the ornate door knocker, giving it several firm raps. The sound seemed to echo through the house. Steele pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to clean the grime from the small window in the door; Laura leaned in to peer through.

"I doubt there's anything here that's going to help, but..." Laura gestured toward the side of the house.

Grimacing a little as he stepped onto the unkempt lawn, Steele grumbled,"I wish you'd let me know when we're going to be engaged in outdoor activities, Laura, I'd wear the proper footwear."

"I'm wearing heels, and you don't hear me complaining, do you?"

Steele huffed with an exaggerated shudder of relief as the pair reached the relative haven of a patio that curved around double French doors in the rear of the home. Well worn stone resonated under their heels as they approached the bank of tall windows. A quick glance confirmed the room had been stripped of all furnishings. Laura stood gazing almost wistfully, however, at the walls, lined with floor to ceiling book shelves, nothing more than a few scraps of paper giving mute testimony to the volumes that once resided there. "Must have been quite a reader, whoever this Williams fellow was, to have had an entire room devoted to books. Wouldn't you have loved to have seen this room in it's hey day, the shelves filled with wonderful, classic titles?"

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Laura at the window, Steele did not respond to her question.

"Mr. Steele?"

Pulling his sunglasses from his eyes, Steele gazed at the image in front of him for a second more, before turning slowly, a smile sliding slowly across his handsome face. After a quick glance at him, Laura turned to look away from the windows toward the trees that had been reflected in them.

The sun filtering down through the leaves of the overhanging limbs made shadows flicker across the stones. A wrought iron seat nestled among the trees just at the edge of the patio. Stones in natural colors just in front of it had been laid to form the letter "W."

With several long strides Steele crossed the patio, Laura following more slowly, her eyes fixed on the stones in front of the wrought iron seat. It didn't take long for their eyes to lock together on a single small stone in the grouping, one that few but the sharpest of eyes might see had been moved in the past. Steele cast about for something with which to pry it up, but Laura was faster, producing a screwdriver from a small case she carried in her purse. With a shrug and a smile she levered the stone from it's close fit. In the shallow hollow revealed lay an intricately formed medallion on a silver chain.

RSRSRSRSRS

It was reassuring to find The Dusty Bookshelf living up to it's name when they arrived there a short time later. The familiar ring of the shop's bell as Steele and Laura entered alerted it's spectacled proprietor to their arrival. He beamed at them from where he and his niece were conducting inventory.

"Detectives! What a pleasure to see you again so soon. Can I assume you have some good news for me about my missing books?"

"Not yet, Mr. Standusty, but possibly a piece of the puzzle. We were hoping you could help us. Our secretary matched your acquisitions to recent estate sales, and came up with a name. William Williams."

Sheila looked up from the clipboard she had been working on. "Oh! I remember that name! His nephew came by the shop a couple of weeks ago, asking about the books we'd bought from him. Unfortunately I couldn't really help him with titles. We'd been to several fruitful estate sales that week, and if he didn't know which books belonged to his uncle, I don't know how he expected us to!"

"Yes, well I fear Mr. William's nephew may not have known the value of either the books he was disposing of or the clues they might have held to other of his uncle's valuables," Steele offered. "We think the note you found, Mr. Standusty, came from the box of books sold at Mr. William's estate sale."

Mr. Standusty shook his head sadly. "I try to advise family members when they're disposing of a library they're unfamiliar with, to make sure they understand how much collectors are willing to pay for some volumes."

"It may go even further than the books themselves. We stopped by the house and stumbled on a bit of an artifact." Laura pulled the medallion out of her purse, displaying it carefully against her palm. "I don't know anything about this, but someone took some pains to conceal it in an out of the way place."

"I'll take that."

A man wielding a large handgun stepped out from behind Laura, holding his hand out for the medallion. Laura pulled it back closer toward her body, at the same time stepping away from the man.

"Mr. Williams, I presume?" Steele's tone was polite, but his eyes, as he stepped almost imperceptibly toward Laura flashed a warning toward her assailant.

"Come on now, hand it over before anyone gets hurt!" the man barked. "My uncle left me that albatross of a house, and promised to leave me enough to live in it, but I never saw a penny in cash. I've been selling it off, piece by piece, until there's nothing left to sell, and I'm still going under. I saw that imbecilic note. Kept thinking there was cash or stock certificates or something of value in one of them stupid books. Nice of you to figure out what the old coot meant."

Standusty stepped forward, saying indignantly, "Mister, there's no reason to disparage old people!"

Sending a single shot whistling past Laura's ear, Williams growled. "The next one lands closer to home. I may not be good for much, but I'm a fair shot. Give me the medallion, doll-face, and then I'll leave you all here and be on my way."

"Give the 'gentleman' what he wants, Laura," Steele said with a quiet chill, moving to take the medallion from Laura's hand as he sought to put himself between the gunman and her. "It seems to me that it belongs to him anyway."

"Now you're talking," Williams said with a slight smile. "A man who understands what's what and keeps his broad in line."

Steele pulled the medallion from Laura's grasp and tossed it high in the air toward the gunman, who kept his focus on the medallion long enough for Steele to reach across him to push the arm holding the gun straight up. Laura moved with similar speed to grab the man behind the knee, dropping him to the floor. The gun hit the floor as he fell. In a comic long legged quick step Steele artfully kicked the weapon across the room. Turning to pull Laura close to his side, Steele assured the dazed man, "No one keeps Miss Holt in line."

"I'd have to agree with that," Detective Jarvis said from the doorway, pulling his gun from it's holster and training on the now disarmed man. "As a matter of fact neither one of you follows protocol very well. Now does somebody want to tell me what's going on here?"

"Ah, Detective Jarvis. Impeccable timing, as usual. This gentleman felt we had something that belonged to him, and was attempting to persuade us to turn it over." Though his words were light, and his arm around Laura casual, Steele kept an eye trained on the prone man, unwilling to assume he posed no further threat.

Laura pulled away from Steele to address Jarvis. "What _did_ bring you here, Detective?"

At that moment Mildred set the bells jangling as she burst through the front door, breathless as she took in the scene in front of her. "Oh! I was right! I looked into who the Williams estate belonged to, and the nephew has a record as long as your arm, Mr. Steele. I was worried he might be the one who stole Mr. Standusty's books, and our files."

"Good work, Miss Krebs! Once again you've saved the day."

Mildred blushed as she beamed at Steele.

"Oh my." Mr. Standusty's niece Sheila suddenly seemed to sag. "The idea that someone could just walk right into the shop..."

Laura reached out to the woman and caught her before she could fall.

"Perhaps we ought to stop savoring the moment, Mr. Steele, and make sure our client and his family are OK.


	7. Chapter 7

Steele, Laura and Mildred trailed wearily toward the double doors to the Towers. Steele opened the one on the left and gallantly motioned the ladies through. Mr. Standusty and the Dusty Bookshelf would soon have their stolen books back, though Standusty seemed to feel more guilty about the entire debacle than the perpetrator, who had sold the contents of his uncle's library for far less than their value. The medallion would be held as evidence for the time being, until the nephew's various assaults were sorted out.

The police paper work always seemed to take longer than the investigation itself, wearing in its tediousness, especially it seemed, when Jarvis was involved. He had puzzled both Laura and Mildred with his dogged questioning of Steele's role in the investigation, even his role at the agency, Mildred finally staunchly declaring, "Not that we don't appreciate your help, now and then, Detective Jarvis, but with the chief's case closure rate, I'd think you'd be bending over backwards to thank him for his help!"

At that Jarvis had reluctantly sent them on their way, the letter in Steele's suit coat, at least in the mind of the agency's namesake, crackling ominously.

"Mildred, we really do appreciate your calling Detective Jarvis." Laura finally broke into the silence. I can't quite figure out why a homicide detective has been so interested in our missing book case, but your timing was perfect."

"Looked to me as if you and the chief had things covered, Miss Holt, but since Jarvis was already involved...he seemed like the right person to call." Mildred peered a bit anxiously up at Steele. "Was I right, Mr. Steele?"

The trio had reached the bank of elevators and were waiting there.

"Of course it was!" Laura touched Steele's bicep subtly. "Mr. Steele?"

"Wha'? Oh, absolutely, Ms. Krebs. Glad to have the calvary ride in." Steele offered distractedly, hand tapping a nervous rhythm on his left chest.

The doors opened, a single woman stepping from the otherwise empty car, a shapely dark haired beauty, crisply dressed in a burgundy tailored skirt and jacket. A slight smile slid across her face upon seeing the three members of the detective agency. She glanced at Laura, and then at Steele, opening her mouth to speak, when Steele placed a firm hand at both his partner's and Mildred's backs to shepherd them past her into the open elevator car.

"Come now, ladies, it's been a long day."

"Mr. Steele!" Laura interjected, pulling away from Steele to step toward the woman. "Ms. Gilbert, isn't it? From the advertising firm on the tenth floor?"

"That's right." the woman said, hesitantly, but with a quiet confidence. "Call me Madeleine, please! I'm flattered you know who I am, and a bit embarrassed at the same time. I'm so glad to finally have a chance to speak with you. I've wanted to for quite some time."

"Advertisements?" Steele asked with a quirk of his mouth, and a nervous half laugh. "Television, radio, that sort of thing? How fascinating. I might have guessed a government agency official of some kind."

"Magazine copy, more specifically," Madeleine answered. "I'm a writer."

At that the young woman blushed and grew a bit flustered. "I write more than just copy, actually. I've wanted so badly to meet the two of you. You see, I've written quite a few stories based on you, a handsome private investigator and his beautiful partner, solving crimes in Los Angeles and around the world. Your work, your lives are the perfect fodder for story telling."

The two detectives glanced at one another, and then back at Ms. Gilbert.

"Stories about us?" Remington grinned crookedly. "Really?"

Laura was more taken aback. She thought briefly of the whole 'Stories of Steele' that had distracted Steele in the early years of their relationship. "I'm not sure we really merit that kind of attention. What do you plan to do with your stories?"

"Oh, the stories are all from my imagination, simply using you as the inspiration! I think you'd find them enjoyable - they're really just an exercise for me in writing," Madeleine said wistfully. "Some day I hope to create other characters, a novel perhaps, but in the meantime I've had so much pleasure taking you and Mr. Steele across the country and even throughout Europe solving crimes. In my stories you've met and foiled some truly evil men."

At this Madeleine grinned shyly and shrugged. "Anyway, it's a true pleasure to finally meet you. I would be very happy to share my stories with you if you like, but I shouldn't keep you any longer. I know you're very busy."

"I'd love to read your stories, Ms. Gilbert. You just bring them by the office any time." Mildred stage-whispered to Madeleine. "I think these two are the perfect subject for a romance story.

Laura blushed deeply, while a saucy smile lit Steele's face.

"Lovely to meet _you_, Ms. Gilbert." With a wink for Madeleine, he once again motioned Mildred and Laura into the waiting elevator, allowing the doors to separate them from the attractive young author.

RSRSRSRSRS

The sleek lines of Steele's desk lamp provided the only illumination in the dim office. The debris of carry out - a styrofoam clam shell holding the remains of a salad, and another neatly emptied of a pasta dish - were stacked in the office's small waste can. a dark suit coat was draped neatly over the back of the desk chair; polished Italian oxfords, could they have been seen, were lined up under the desk, their owner having long ago pushed them from his tired feet.

Laura leaned forward from where she sat on the broad expanse of the office's white sofa to make a final note on the top page of a file before snapping the folder shut and laying it aside on the low table in front of her. Steele's long legs were crossed on the table, his fingers laced behind his head, the lean line of his body stretched out next to Laura with a feral grace. As the brunette sank back against the sofa, she drew her legs up under her and turned to Steele, her left hand moving to play absently with the buttons of his crisp white shirt.

"People certainly make their lives more difficult than need be, don't they?" she mused.

Anxiety crept across Steele's face. "What do you mean?"

"Mr. Standusty would have happily helped Williams assess the value of his uncle's books if he had only known enough to ask. As it is, he'll likely spend time in jail and spend the remainder of the estate he inherited on legal fees."

Steele hummed thoughtfully. "I've known plenty of blokes like him; never had the good sense or good luck to get past their own mistakes. Could'a been me if Daniel hadn't shaken me by the scruff a time or two."

Drawing back to level her partner with an appraising gaze, Laura remarked slowly, "It's hard for me to see Daniel as a good influence over you, but assuming he hasn't dragged you into another of his nefarious schemes, remind me to thank him next time I see him."

Grinning a bit, Steele dropped an arm around Laura's shoulder and snugged her in tight. "No worries, Laura. Daniel's schemes can't hold a candle to your charms."

Sighing softly, as she thought of the times Daniel had pulled Steele away in the past, Laura shifted and stood up, reaching for the file on the table as she rose. "It's been a long day, Mr. Steele. Thank you for your help at the Dusty Bookshelf. You, Mildred; I couldn't do it without you."

Steele grabbed her wrist before she could step away. "Laura, I meant what I said. I plan to be here, right here with you, to be part of whatever stories we write together, the adventures of Remington Steele."

Rising to pull her into the circle of one long arm, he buried a hand in her thick hair , cradling her skull. Brown eyes and blue drifted closed as they swayed slightly. A tight lipped smile curled the edges of Laura's mouth, before she tipped her head upward to kiss the hard edge of Steele's jaw.

"Perhaps we should leave the story telling to Ms. Gilbert, eh Mr. Steele?"

With a final hard squeeze, Steele released Laura just far enough to brush her lips with a tender kiss.

"As long as she writes us a happy ending, Miss Holt. As long as she writes us a happy ending."

~ RSRSRSRSRS~

_Though I have long known where I wanted to take this tale at it's end, never have I more decidedly felt the disparity between the author I wished to remember, and my own writings than now. It has been nearly a year since MG was too soon silenced, the remainder of her stories about Remington Steele and his lovely wife and partner, Laura Steele, lost to us along with their author. She gave us so many lovely images of this couple, took us on so many marvelous journeys throughout Europe and the states, ever in pursuit of the villainous Tony Roselli. Though we didn't get the happy ending we might have liked for our friends Laura, Remington and MG, oh how we loved our time together. I encourage you to go back to read Steele in Perspective, Steele-In-Law, Ancestral Steele, Steele in the Shadows, Requiem in Steele Major: The Prequel, Notoriously, Steele, Wife of Steele, Something Wicked This Way Steeles or DoppelSteele, found under Madeleine Gilbert's name on this site.  
_


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